


Returned Gifts

by PrincessGarnetXVII



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessGarnetXVII/pseuds/PrincessGarnetXVII
Summary: Christmas is coming, and Cid is running out of time to get Vincent a present!





	Returned Gifts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsHighwind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHighwind/gifts).



> Hello!  
> This was a Secret Santa fic I wrote for MrsHighwind, which I fully intended to upload in time for Christmas! Unfortunatley, being ill, Uni work and me being a dumbass means this is going up after Christmas!  
> Still, better late than never? Hope you enjoy! :)

Cid stalked agitatedly before a twitchy looking group of young mechanics. They cast wide-eyed, nervous gazes between themselves, swallowing as they watched the grizzled blond pilot chew lightly at a cigarette butt.  
In a flash he had whipped around to stab a finger at a small, mousey faced greenhorn.  
“You!”  
The mechanic jumped, swallowing as he blinked at Cid. “Sir!”  
“Ideas. Lemme hear ‘em.”  
The young man shuffled helplessly  
“How about a new sweater, cashmere or-“  
The pilot raised a hand, producing a lighter from his pocket and sparking up quickly.  
He continued in his pacing, a pensive look on his grizzly features. He stopped again, clicking his fingers at a young aspiring Co-Pilot, taking a deep drag on the cig.  
“What about a fancy new watch? Gold with diamond accents and...” the young girl trailed off as Cid began shaking his head, dropping the expended smoke and crunching it under his boot.  
“You know what? Nevermind, I’m wasting my goddamn time with you knuckleheads.”  
He paused, narrowing his eyes at the throng of uncertain staff. “Whaddya waiting for, fuckin Santa Claus? Back to work!”  
The mechanics scattered, rushing back to waiting wrenches and open plane hoods.  
Cid placed his hands on his hips, gritting his teeth. He eyed the rattled throng as they did their best to look busy under his laser gaze, and felt a pang of guilt.“Shit.”  
He marched away, thumping up the steps to the office overlooking the hangar floor. “Shera? Where the hell are you, Shera?”  
He slammed open the office door, eyes resting on the woman in question. Shera pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear as she scrabbled in a small box of receipts, not stopping to look up at the intrusion, quite used to the Pilots cranky stomping and barking.  
“What is it, Cid? I’m rather busy.” She answered calmly, making neat piles on the desk before her.  
“I need your help.” Cid muttered, kicking the door closed behind him. At this, Shera did look up, eyebrows raised in unchecked surprise.  
“You...want my help?” she queried slowly, eyes blinking behind her owlish glasses.  
“Did I stutter?” Cid growled. “Yeah I want your help, Shera. I ain’t got time to sit around with a thumb up my ass.”  
The petite woman twitched slightly at the uncouth expression, but smiled all the same.  
“Please, go on.”  
Cid suddenly looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, shoving a gloved hand in his pocket as he tapped a fresh smoke along the length of his lips. “Its Vincent.”  
Shera was momentarily nonplussed, a worried crease forming under her uneven fringe.  
“What about him?”  
Cid hesitated, before sighing.  
“I haven’t got a fuckin clue what to get him for a gift.”  
Shera broke into a warm grin. “That’s why you’ve been throwing your weight about in the pits, and terrorising the poor staff?” she laughed, shaking her head.  
Cid flushed red, a combination of anger and embarrassment.  
“Oh, Cid! Vincent wont care what you get him as long as its from you!” Shera said kindly, slotting the lid back on the box of receipts.  
“Thats what everyone keeps sayin’. Fuck, I aint a moron!” he tugged at his short blond crop. “I know Vince aint one for flashy presents, but its the first Christmas since we married! It matters to me!” Cid yelled, pacing the small office as he waved his hands skyward. “I aint givin him any old shit. Not this year.”  
Shera had stopped laughing, and was now studying him with a thoughtful expression.  
“I get that Cid, really. But there’s only you who knows what to get him.” She answered thoughtfully, smoothing a rumpled pile of papers. “You know him better than anyone. Think it over- quietly. The answer will come to you eventually.”  
Cid glared at her for a moment, considering her words carefully before sighing deeply.  
“Goddammnit. I hope you’re right.” 

☆

Tapping his foot lightly, Cid dithered in front of the grimy weapons store window, his expression becoming tighter with each passing second. Guns of every make and model were propped tantalisingly on delicate hooks, a neat little placard giving the run down on their range, firepower and Materia capabilities, among other relevant stats.  
Cid mentally scratched these from his list. It was no good, Vince would never replace Cerberus.  
He bent down to inspect the accessories below, including an array of rounds, bangles, and status buffing trinkets. He felt his mood become gloomier as each was less inspiring than the last. Their equipment trunk under the bed was already near full to bursting, but Vincent very rarely changed up what he’d found worked for him. Cid gave a small wry grin at the thought, despite himself. He often told Vincent that he was as rooted in his ways as the rusted struts still standing in Rocket Town. Vincent would reply exactly the same each time, down to the soft flicker of an eyelid: “I don’t know what you mean, Highwind.” Cid still felt that same little thrill at being the one who was privvy to his husbands rare little quirks of odd humour.  
With a sigh, he stood, stuffing his hands into the deep pockets of his jacket to stave off the cold.  
“Cid! Hi!”  
He turned, spotting Tifa waving at him animatedly, with a frazzled looking Cloud following close behind, beholden with multiple bags.  
“Hey!” he nodded in greeting as they reached his side, Cloud visibly sagging with relief at the small respite. Cid gave him a wide grin, nodding at the bags.  
“Enjoying an afternoon of shopping I see.”  
Cloud fixed him with a dark glare, and opened his mouth to give a cutting remark, but Tifa jumped in excitedly, face glowing.  
“We’ve had a blast! We’ve almost got everyone covered, there’s just a few of the kids presents left, but its all in hand.”  
Every year, 7th Heaven was almost visible from space with how many lights, tinsel and baubles it ended up festooned with. A few years back, the group had decided that it was time to start enjoying holidays again, some more enthusiastically than others. Cid shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the Cosmo Canyon celebrations, commemorating the Victory over the Gi Tribe last year. He vaguely remembered wearing nothing but Vincent’s cape before passing out in the observatory. His then-partner had not been pleased.  
“So, shopping for Vincent?” Tifa asked, turning to peer into the window beside them.  
Cid visibly sagged. “Yep. Lets just say it aint goin so hot. Feel like tossin some ideas my way?”  
Tifa and Cloud exchanged a glance.  
“Well Cid, you know Vincent better than any of us. Think about what he means to you, and you’ll figure it out in no time.”  
Beside her Cloud groaned, but not quietly enough, earning him a deadly glare from Tifa.  
Cid felt his own friendly grin fix to his face, swallowing down the bile that came with every well meaning piece of ‘advice’. He wanted suggestions, not sentiments. Needless to say, it was getting old, and fast.  
“Ignore him.” She sniffed. “He wouldn’t know romance if it bit him on the Buster sword. Anywho, we best get going, lots to do! C’mon Cloud.”  
Cloud mumbled a begrudging “Bye, Cid.” Before shuffling away, followed closely by Tifa.  
Cid gave a lazy salute, his eyes fixing on the murky shop front once more, feeling hopeless. Christmas was in 3 days, and he was running out of time.  
He sighed, turning to head further down the street, wondering idly if Gwinnies Pancake House was still serving breakfast. He pulled at the thin shred of plastic covering a fresh pack of smokes, relishing the feel of slipping the neat square of silver away from the inside.  
He settled against a nearby lamp post, puffing lazily as he took a short 5 minutes before heading into the fray once again. Across the street, he noticed a young couple standing in front of Serenity, a jewellery store that had recently opened. Cid hadnt been inside himself, but he always figured the glitzy, gaudy shop seemed out of place in the oppressive atmosphere of the city.  
He headed over, just as the girl gave an excitable wave to her partner, disappearing into the throng. Cid leaned in, eyes roving over the shining gold and silver necklaces, rings and earrings. Diamonds, emeralds and rubies glittered under the dazzling white lights, settled against black velvet.  
“Stunning rocks, am I right?”  
Cid looked up into the face of a boyish looking young man, chesnut hair swept haphazardly into a retro coif, blue eyes kind. As young as he looked, he still held that quietly disconcerting look of anguish that most of the citizens of Edge held. He seemed to age the longer Cid looked at him.  
“Stunning prices too.” Cid quipped back, flicking off ash.  
The young man gave an easy laugh.  
“Me and my girl got engaged last month, hoping to pick something out for Christmas.”  
Cid smiled at him genuinely. Despite how prickly he knew he could be, it warmed Cids heart to know that people were still building lives and futures for themselves.  
“Thats great, congrats.”  
The young man nodded in thanks, before gesturing at the window.  
“We weren’t sure if we were gonna go for rings. I don’t care what we get, its not about that is it? But my girl’s a traditionalist.”  
Cid frowned lightly, but nodded.  
“No, I guess not.” He mumbled.  
“You married?”  
Cid couldn’t help the bright grin that spread across his face.  
“Goin’ on for a year now.”  
The stranger laughed, gesturing at the many rings shining before them. “Any recommendations?”  
Cid opened his mouth to reply, but paused, his face dropping. “Sorry man, I made a real mess of it, myself.”  
The would-be groom shrugged.  
“Well, never mind. I know Emaline better than anyone, this’ll be a cinch.” He proclaimed confidently. He headed for the door, turning back to wave to Cid.  
“Merry Christmas, man.”  
Cid nodded, watching him head into the store, certain he’d get it right. God knew Cid hadn’t.  
As he mulled sullenly over his cock-up, Cid froze, suddenly struck with overwhelming clarity. He did know Vincent better than anyone, and with what he knew about Vincent, the answer was startlingly clear. His conversation with the young man ticking over in his brain, Cid hurried forward, bustling into the store. 

☆

As gently as he could, Cid lowered himself onto the bed beside his husband, setting a fresh coffee on the bedside table. In the lull, his eyes traced Vincent’s face, his heart hammering in his chest, even though mornings like this were commonplace.  
Raven black hair spilled over the top of snow white sheets. A gentle stirring, and deep crimson eyes peered out, meeting Cids own.  
“Morning, Vince.” He murmured.  
Vincent remained silent, untangling his arms from the covers and shuffling till he was sat upright. Plucking the mug from the small table, he delicately sipped at it, inhaling deeply.  
Only once he seemed adequately sated did he lower the mug, before resting a hand on Cids arm.  
“Thank you for the coffee.”  
Cid beamed like Vincent had declared verses of praise, before standing from the bed.  
“I have yer gift right here.” He said, scrabbling excitedly in a nearby chest of drawers.  
Vincent watched him go, nursing his coffee with a tiny amused grin. Cid had always loved any kind of holiday, any excuse for a ‘knees up’, and it was infectious.  
Finally, he approached the bed, sitting once more before proffering a slim, neatly wrapped box towards his husband.  
Vincent took it gently, carefully sliding his fingers under the folds, peeling back the sellotape so as to not tear the shimmering red paper, to which Cid scoffed impatiently in jest.  
Finally, Vincent unearthed a long velvet case.  
Red eyes flicked upwards to meet Cids inquiringly, before Vincent slowly cracked open the box.  
Sitting inside was a long golden chain, thick and shining where it sat in its soft bedding.  
“Now, let me ask ya something Vince.”  
Vincent had been tracing his finger over the cool smooth links, a soft expression on his face. He looked up into Cids excited eyes.  
“Go ahead.”  
Cid took a deep breathe.  
“Dya remember when I asked ya to marry me?”  
Vincent gave a soft hum, expression blank but his eyes were twinkling. “How could I forget?” 

• ☆

It had been an exceptionally chilly spring, the coldest in recent memory. Cid had been piloting for the WRO, a long, tiring job working to deliver construction goods to the more remote cities of the world. When he had left, he’d seen the displeasure written on Vincents face. His expression had been cold, his demeanour even more frigid than Icicle Inn. Yet the work was important, and the pay fantastic, Cid had’ve been a fool to turn it down.  
It was standing atop the deck of The Flower Girl, staring down at the softly flickering miner lamps of Bone Village, that he’d realised that come hell or high water, when he returned, he’d ask Vincent to marry him. So, he’d stopped by Junon for the ring, prepared his speech, and drank a good amount of whiskey to soothe his shredded nerves.  
Stepping through the door, seeing Vincent curled into one of the large reading chairs, hastily removing the delicate reading glasses perched on his nose, Cid knew he’d never been more sure of anything. His nerves gone, he’d rattled off his careful words, gotten on his knee before where Vincent sat, and popped the question.  
“Vince...will ya marry me?”  
Two small spots of red bloomed on Vincent’s pale face, one of the few external signs he was truly excited.  
A long moment of silence passed, sweat rolling down Cids back. Just when he began to get worried, Vincent replied.  
“Yes, Cid. Yes, I will.”  
Almost passing out with relief, Cid had hung his head, before plucking the ring from its mooring in the box, and reaching for Vincent’s hand.  
That was when the atmosphere had changed.  
Vincent raised his left hand, more specifically, the gauntlet that sat where his left hand used to be. The golden, claw-like fingers flexed, before curling in on themselves and pulling away.  
“I cant wear your ring, Cid.”  
Cid looked down dumbly at the ring, his mouth opening and closing stupidly.  
“Oh err, yeah...”  
Vincent had inhaled shakily, struggling to keep his expression neutral. Cid searched his face uncertainly.  
“Thats alright, wear it on yer right.”  
There was a pause, before Vincent mumbled: “Its not the same.”  
Cid floundered, sitting back on the floor.  
“It doesn’t matter which hand Vince, its what it symbolises.”  
Vincent shook his head, before meeting his eyes. “You wear the ring, lest it go to waste.”  
With that he’d unfolded himself from the chair, striding from the room. Cid followed close behind.  
“I don’t get it. Dya still wanna marry me?”  
Vincent had stopped, keeping his back to Cid. A long, agonising silence filled the space between them, Cid had shifted uncomfortably.  
“Something else that has been taken from me. The simple act of wearing my soon-to-be husbands ring.”  
Cid blinked at Vincents back, shocked by his partners admission. He was the only one who knew just how deep Vincent’s scars ran, and for the most part, they were beginning to torment him less and less.  
Yet even after so many years, it still pained Cid to know that their reach was so great, so insidious in all it touched. Even something that should bring great joy could be tainted by its miasma.  
Cid fumbled for the right words, unsure of what he could say. He struggled for a moment, before deciding he could only say how he felt, and nothing more. Tentatively, he approached Vincent, stopping by his side.  
“Listen, I can take the ring back, I can wear it, hell- I can hurl the damn thing into the lifestream!” Cid felt his voice rising, shaking as he spoke. “All I know is, I love you, and I want you as my husband.”  
Just say you’ll marry me.

☆

Cid nodded at Vincent.  
“I gotta apologise to ya.” He said quietly.  
Vincent frowned, perplexed at Cids words.  
“Even though I was proposing, I didn’t think enough about you back then. I was just so damn excited to ask.” He took the box from Vincent slipping the chain from its hooks. He unclasped it, and offered each end to Vincent, who took it bemused.  
Cid raised his left hand, gazing down lovingly at the gold band.  
“I got this ring for you, Vince. Now I think its time I gave it back.”  
Carefully, Cid slipped the ring from his finger, before taking one end of the chain from Vincent. With a flourish, he thread the ring onto the chain, before taking the other end.  
Vincent remained silent as he sat forward, Cid fastening the clasp at his nape.  
“Just like this old pilot, its yours. Merry Christmas, Vincent Highwind.”  
Vincent gently touched the ring, shining in the soft morning light just below his collarbones. Two red spots bloomed on his cheeks as he met Cids deep blue eyes. He smiled, bringing Cids hand up to his face, dropping a soft kiss onto the newly naked finger.  
“Merry Christmas, Chief.” 


End file.
